Pairing: S/W
Rating: NC-17
Summary: What if Spike really did get his chip out?.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, Joss does.
Spoilers: up to the end of Season 6
WARNINGS!!! Character deaths!!! This is a Dark Fic!
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~Part: 1~
Willow watched with a satisfied grin as Buffy took off at top speed, hoping to save her friends from the devastation that the magical fireball would cause when it caught up to them. With that out of the way, she turned back to deal with Giles, who lay on the floor, gasping for breath amid the wreckage of the Magic Box. Willow cackled as he struggled to his feet, wiped at blood trickling into his eyes, and began a strange chant. Her laughter was cut short when she found herself flung backwards, crashing into the wall.
Giles advanced on the witch, still muttering the foreign words of the spell. Willow remained slumped against the wall, unable to fight the force field holding her down. Her black eyes bored into Giles with hatred so fierce, his words nearly failed him when he saw it.
The slamming door attracted the attention of them both, Willow watching over Giles' shoulder to see who interrupted them. A dark figure swaggered into the shop, boots crunching on broken glass as he came closer to the watcher.
Giles relaxed when he saw who it was. "Ah, Spike. Yes, you see now really isn't a good time for." He stopped, noticing the peculiar look on the vampire's face.
"Actually mate, this looks like a real good time. After all, I've waited long enough." Spike was face to face with Giles, staring him down. "I've spent far too long with my fate resting on you lot. Time to take matters into my own hands." With that he reached out and grabbed Giles by the shoulders. Snatching a handful of the watcher's hair, Spike yanked his head to one side, vamped out, and sunk his fangs deep into the pulsing neck vein.
Giles didn't even have time to scream. Spike dropped his limp body, and he was dead before he hit the floor. Yellow eyes turned to the witch who was picking herself up off of the floor, the spell having dissipated with Giles' death.
"Well, well. Somebody went and got their head all fixed up," Willow said, regarding the vampire with a new respect. "Bet he thinks he's gonna make a snack out of poor little Willow, doesn't he?"
"Oh, not a snack, love. You look like a feast fit for bloody royalty. I'll enjoy every drop of it too. First, you be a nice helpful witch, and tell me where the Slayer is. Got to be able to find my dessert, you know." Spike took a menacing step towards Willow as he wiped the leftover blood from his chin.
"Oooh, sorry Spike. I think I may have burned your dessert a little. Might not be as juicy as you like." Willow laughed at the puzzled expression on the demon's face. "What can I say? So I got my revenge first. I didn't know you were coming for yours so soon."
"You killed the Slayer?" Spike asked in obvious disbelief. "You killed your best friend? So, this isn't just a botched dye job from the salon?" He indicated her black hair.
Willow smiled and shook her head. "I can't say for sure that she's dead, but it doesn't look good. Then again, you know Buffy, always managing to get lucky at the last minute. Bitch. Oh and if she's not dead, don't think I'm going to let you have the pleasure of fixing that." A strong wind blew through the shop, fanning Willow's hair out behind her. A surprised Spike found himself soaring upwards before colliding with the ceiling. Willow continued. "No, she will die by my hand. She was supposed to die, not Tara. That bullet was meant for her! I will make it right!"
On the ceiling, things became clearer for Spike. "Oh, so this is what all the new bad girl stuff is about," he said, mocking her. "Someone went and offed your little girlfriend, did they? Aiming for the slayer and missed? Slayer couldn't save her? Please. She's made my life a living hell for years. If anyone deserves to kill her, it's me! It's my bloody right as a vampire to have a go at the Slayer!"
Willow looked up at him. "I don't think you're in much of a position to be arguing here Mr. Vampire. You really think I'm just going to be all nice and let you down, so you can eat me and ruin my revenge? Mmm, nope, doesn't work that way."
Spike growled at Willow, well aware of his predicament. "Let me go, witch. I didn't go through hell and back to get this chip out of my head, just to mess around with some little girl who suddenly decides to get a makeover and play dress up."
Willow twisted her face in a scowl and opened her mouth to object, but then changed her mind and smiled. "All right, I'll let you go." With a flick of her fingers, Spike found himself crashing to the floor. He moaned in pain and struggled to his knees. Willow circled him, musing as he plucked the broken glass from his face and palms, "What shall I do with you? Can't just leave you here, what if you get to the Slayer before me? Or annoy me further by trying to eat me? I could stake you, but that's so. slayerish. Still, I suppose it's the only choice, as much as I hate to use physical force when magical force is sooo much more fun!" Willow's eyes rolled back as she said this, relishing the feeling of the magical energy coursing through her. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she bent to pick up a splinter of wood. Willow turned and rushed towards the vampire, brandishing the makeshift stake. Spike easily pushed it away and landed an uppercut to her chin that knocked her back several feet.
"Sorry love, big bad powers and all, you're still a wimp at hand to hand." Spike rose to his feet now, his wounds already starting to heal.
Willow did not bother to get up, but levitated the splinter, turning it with her mind to point at Spike's chest. "Look, no hands!" she announced, and sent the wood hurtling towards Spike.
With superhuman speed, his hand shot out and grabbed the stake from mid air. Spike tossed it aside, and turned back to Willow. "You're really starting to piss me off. First, you don't tell me a damn thing about the Slayer, and now you're threatening to put holes in my favorite shirt! If I can't eat you, I'm sure as bloody hell not going to stick around and talk. I'll find that bitch myself." Though she sent a spell after him, Spike was too quick and made it out the door, which exploded from the magical power.
~Part: 2~
Willow stalked over to the books on dark magic that had survived the demolishment of the shop. She would need all the power she could get to exact her justice. Three left to kill. Warren's accomplices could not be spared. The Slayer who had endangered them all must not be permitted to walk around enjoying her life. Willow felt she had been a fool to save her. She thought she was a friend. The nerve she had! Trying to save Warren when he so clearly deserved death! The Slayer had stood in her way. That would not happen again.
Willow slammed the last of the books shut. Not enough power! She stormed around the debris in a rage. She stopped in front of Giles' body. Stooping, she laid a hand on his chest. Nothing. He was gone, and all his borrowed magic gone with him. Grumbling in frustration, she resumed her pacing, kicking a mangled bookshelf out of her way. Walking on, Willow came across another body on the floor. Anya lay sprawled out, unconscious from her earlier struggles with Willow.
Delight soared in Willow as she eagerly grabbed Anya, and dragged her upright. Concentrating deeply, Willow watched as light began to grow around Anya's chest, and converged into a bright ball. She reached her hand towards this energy, and closed her eyes as it flowed into her. The light grew brighter and crackled as Willow drew it faster and faster into her own body. Abruptly, the last of the power surged into her and the light went out. Anya slumped back to the floor, dead. Willow opened her eyes and stood, smiling. "That's good. That's very good. Ready or not here I come!"
~Part: 3~
The sun was on its way up when Willow found herself standing on the deserted sidewalk outside her parent's house. They weren't home, of course. That was good since she was too tired to either think up a good reason for her makeover, as Spike had called it, or to kill them. She was still mad that Spike had managed to get away so easily. Not that she had a good reason for wanting to kill him; she just didn't want him in the way. But, he was a vampire, and an evil one again. Didn't that mean that anyone was justified in killing him for any reason? She decided that wasn't her problem. Who was she anyway, the Slayer?
She climbed the stairs to her old bedroom, and peered in through the doorway. It looked strange to her, like she'd never seen it before. She went over to the dresser and picked up a picture of herself, with red hair, laughing and smiling, arm around Xander. Something deep inside her gave a small lurch as a vivid picture of Anya, dead on the floor, surfaced in her mind. Anya had caused Xander so much pain. She deserved to die. Xander would be pleased that she was out of his life for good. She was sure he would love her all the more for what she had done. He was still her friend, even if all the others had betrayed her.
Exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, Willow lay down on the frilly bed, and fell asleep moments later. She knew she had all day to find Buffy, if she was still alive. Spike would be forced to wait until dark to start looking. Willow could have her dead by suppertime.
No dreams haunted Willow's sleep. When she awoke it was late afternoon, and she felt powerful and refreshed. She realized she had an important decision to make, now that she was thinking more clearly. Jonathan and Andrew were getting farther away every minute. Buffy probably didn't have any plans to leave Sunnydale. If she went after Buffy first, the other two would be so far away, it might take her weeks to track them down. On the other hand, if she left Sunnydale, Spike might get to Buffy first.
Willow giggled. Spike? Kill Buffy? In his undead dreams! How many times had he tried that already? Willow decided she could risk leaving Buffy in Spike's path for a few days. Pleased with her conclusion, Willow set off in search of vengeance.
She knew where they were and what they were doing. They were in a truck, headed to Mexico. Still, they had not yet left southern California. The truck driver had a lot of stops to make. Willow would catch them easily. It might even be fun, she mused, as she strolled to the Chevrolet dealer. Picking out a yellow Corvette convertible with white leather interior, she looked around for a salesman.
A moment later, a balding man in a bad suit came scurrying up to her, keys and dealer plate in hand. "Oh, an excellent choice, Miss. I see our best car has caught your eye. How about we take a test drive?" Up until this point, he had been focused on the car. Now he turned to face Willow and she watched with poorly concealed glee as his face drained of color. He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth, emitting a bizarre squeaking noise.
"Thanks, great idea," Willow agreed. She snatched the key ring and license plate from the petrified salesman. Slapping the plate on the car, she hopped in the driver's seat and purred with pleasure as the engine turned over. Looking back over her shoulder, she called out, "I'll take it." The next thing the salesman heard was tires screeching and horns honking, as the Corvette peeled out of the lot and into traffic.
Willow careened into the parking lot of the hardware store and screeched to a stop right in front of the door in the fire lane. Nobody dared object. Entering the store, she picked up one of those useful hand baskets and began her shopping for likely instruments of torture.
Browsing through the bulk section, her eye came to rest on a bin of sturdy, two-inch long nails. She selected 40 of these, one to pound under each of their finger and toenails. As an afterthought, she picked out another 10, just in case.
Strolling through the tools, a large, metal mallet caught her attention. She picked it up and hefted it in her hand, admiring the weight. She imagined what it would be like to send it magically crashing down on Jonathan's kneecap. It went in the basket, and Willow moved on.
A flathead screwdriver joined the mallet in the hand basket next. Such a useful tool, Willow thought. Surely she could come up with an idea for it. She stopped to squeeze a pair of pliers, testing their grip. Traditionally used for fingernail extraction, Willow imagined they could be handy in other ways too. Maybe even for teeth.
A small vice was next on the list. Willow grinned as her head filled with images of all the different body parts that could be squeezed till they popped. Up the next aisle, she picked out a ball of twine, just in case they didn't want to sit still. It would be so much easier than conjuring restraints.
As she made her way back to the front of the store, Willow noticed a gleaming handsaw on the wall. Now why didn't I think of that, she wondered, piling it into the basket. Shopping done, she headed for the door.
"Hey, Lady, you didn't pay!" a clerk called out to her. A flick of her wrist sent him crashing through the plate glass window at the front of the shop.
Reaching the Corvette, Willow dumped her selections, basket and all, into the trunk. Even through her rage, she managed to feel aggravated that the small items took up nearly all the storage space. Opening the door she was further irritated to see some of the broken glass from the store window littering her pristine interior. Should have put the top up, she thought. A brief moment's concentration sent the glass flying back towards the frame that used to hold it. Satisfied with her shopping spree, Willow set off for the last stop before her trip southward. It was already dark, and she had a long way to go.
Using a bit more prudence than when she'd entered the parking lot of the hardware store, Willow pulled into the gas station. Corvettes might be good for speed but their gas mileage sucked. Having to stop to refuel every couple of hours would be a major setback. Willow topped off the tank and then filled two gas cans to maximum capacity and set them behind the front seats. At the last moment, she decided to take a look in the little store by the pumps, to see if she could come up with a decent snack for the road. As she pulled open the door, she was simultaneously surprised and annoyed to see Spike emerging, fresh carton of cigarettes in hand.
"Well, hello Red," he said, looking equally surprised and more than a little nervous. Then glancing over her shoulder, he added, "Nice wheels. Who'd you have to kill for those?"
Willow was not in the mood for small talk, but the rapidly spreading purple blotch under Spike's eye sparked her curiosity. "What happened to you? Dinner bite back?"
Lifting a hand to his face self-consciously, Spike replied, "What? This? Oh it's nothing. Just happened to see the Slayer is all. She caught me off guard when I first woke up. Figured out pretty quick about the chip being gone, and you know, it was back to business as usual. Ungrateful bitch. You'd never know I gave her and her wanker friends the best years of my death." He stopped, suddenly aware that he was speaking to one of the aforementioned friends. Sort of.
"I see," Willow said. "So she's alive, and you weren't able to kill her. Again. Now once more I have the problem of what to do with you. I wouldn't mind killing you, but other than keeping you away from the Slayer, I don't see how that would benefit me. I'm even starting to think you might be useful. eventually. in some very small way."
Spike crossed his arms and frowned, grinding his first cigarette under his boot, "Now wait just a damn minute! I'm not your bloody servant! Useful to you? Not if I can help it!"
"Well you can't help it," Willow told him calmly, as if explaining something to a small, impatient child. "You can either get in the car and come with me, or I'll blow up this whole station with you in it."
Spike's jaw dropped, and he uncrossed his arms to put his hands on his hips, "You wouldn't! You couldn't! You'd die too! Or don't you care about that anymore?"
Willow turned to walk back towards the car. "Oh, I wouldn't die. Nope, wouldn't even singe my hair. I can teleport out of here before you could bat an eye. Coming?" she called back over her shoulder.
~Part: 4~
Cruising down the freeway at about 100 miles an hour, Willow largely ignored the vampire sitting in her passenger's seat. For the first half hour or so, he had sat, a death grip on the seat, swearing at her to slow down. When that hadn't worked, and they hadn't crashed, he'd commenced chain smoking to calm his nerves. After burning through three packs, he turned to look at Willow. "Where exactly are we going? I don't mind the occasional road trip, but if this is all part of your master plan, I'd like to know where I fit in."
"Well if you really want to spoil the surprise, we're going to cause massive pain and death. I'm sure you can see how you'd fit in there. Besides, I want you where I can keep an eye on you, until I can deal with the Slayer myself."
"Right. Sure thing. I'm always up for a bit of fun. Still, you're looking like you could do just fine on your own with the death dealing. Not to mention there were still plenty of people to kill back in Sunnydale. Or did you incinerate that and I missed it?" He almost sounded worried.
Willow laughed, delighted at the very idea. "No, don't worry Spike, there will be plenty of people left for you to eat when we get back. See, I'm not out for random destruction. I have a very specific target. I'm out for justice, and you're going to help me make sure that Jonathan and Andrew have the most painful, dreadful, horrific deaths ever! It's only fair," she added.
"And you can't do this without yours truly? What's in it for me, anyway?"
"Oh, sure I could do it without you! But it wouldn't be quite as effective. I think they would scream louder if you were licking their blood as I made it flow. Don't you think? Or, here's an idea, I could have you turn them, and then I could kill them twice! Either way, there's blood in it for you."
Spike was staring at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "Wow, Red, you've come a long way. I think you might be a right bit more evil than me! You know, I am capable of getting my own blood now. I can bite whoever I want." He held his head high. "Still, I suppose being witness to the most horrific deaths ever is a cause worthy of my time."
Spike fell silent for a while after learning their mission. Willow watched, and rolled her eyes, as he lit yet another cigarette. "It's a good thing you're already dead," she remarked.
"Oh well, excuse me," he replied, indignant. "It's not like I've got much else to do! You won't even let me tune the stereo! We've been driving for hours! Where are these losers anyway?"
"Almost to Arizona. We'll catch them."
"Bloody hell, girl! We're not going to get them before the sun comes up! Lot of good I'll do ya as a pile of dust!"
"You're not going to combust. We'll just put the top up, and roll up the windows. They're polarized tinted glass. So is the windshield, though you can't tell in the dark. You'll be fine. We'll get you a blanket next time we stop, just to be sure."
"Oh, thanks, love. You're all heart," Spike shot back.
Willow didn't respond. She was deep in thought, contemplating her life. She didn't have one, she realized. Her life was over the moment Tara died. She lived only for revenge. Nothing else mattered. Once Tara was avenged, it wouldn't matter what happened to her. She could die, go to jail for life, sleep with Spike, she wouldn't care. Sleep with Spike? How'd that thought get in there? She examined her mind for the source of such an idea.
"He's evil, you're evil, what more do you need to know?" Her subconscious responded. "Why wouldn't you feel some connection to him? Who else do you know that kills without remorse?"
"Tara, the love of my life, is dead. I don't feel a connection to anyone," argued the other side of her brain. "Besides, remember the gay thing?"
"Well, you weren't always gay. Just like you weren't always evil. People change. And I didn't say you were in love with Spike, just that it would make sense if you felt he understood you. What'd you bring him for anyway?"
"Not to sleep with him! I just needed him where I could watch him. Not that I mind the company, but it's totally business related."
"Right, so why didn't you just kill him then? We don't need him. He'll only slow us down in the daylight. I think you like having him around," insinuated that practical side of her that she couldn't shut up.
"Hello? I tried to kill him, remember? It didn't work! Fine! I admit that not being the only source of evil in the world is a little bit comforting. But I am NOT going to sleep with him!"
"Um, that was your idea. I never said sleep with him."
"What! You did. ooh! Never mind! Just go away!"
Willow reached over and switched on the radio. Turning to Spike she demanded, "Pick something loud."
~Part: 5~
Willow drove the entire night, and most of the next day, stopping only to fill the gas tank, and get the blanket for Spike. During one of their brief breaks, Spike got a glimpse of the contents of the trunk. They were then able to pass several hours in deep conversation about the various methods of torture each of them knew best. Spike seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of torture stories from his time living with Angelus. Some he had experienced himself, others he merely witnessed performed on other victims. Still others he had executed with his own hand.
Willow was captivated, drinking in his words as if drawing life from them. She was learning a lot about the vampire. She realized that, other than ways to kill them, she didn't know much about the species as a whole. Spike was giving her great insight into their complexities, and what they did for fun. She shuddered pleasantly to think of putting some of her recent learning into practice.
Fatigue began to threaten Willow's concentration on the road. The vampire had fallen asleep, leaving her no distraction to keep her awake. She could sense her prey, less than 100 miles away now. There was no way she would stop until her mission was complete. She could take her time on the way back, since Sunnydale wasn't going anywhere. Soon it would be dark again. Willow judged that she wouldcatch up with the truck less than two hours after nightfall. That would leave plenty of time for Spike and her to have their fun.
The sun set and Willow heard Spike give a mighty yawn. Peeling the blanket down off his face, he turned to her and murmured, "We there yet?"
"Not far now," Willow assured him. "I think we'll be just in time for your breakfast! You'll be able to catch the truck driver, don't you think? He'll tide you over until I let you drain the others. That might be awhile, and I wouldn't want you so hungry that you end our little games too soon."
Spike looked at Willow, eyebrows raised. "Really? You'd let me eat the truck driver? What'd he do then?"
Willow sighed in exasperation, "Hello? Is he not the one helping my enemies escape? I wouldn't bother with the whole torture thing for him, since I doubt he really knows what he's doing, but that doesn't mean I'd feel sorry for him if he suddenly found himself on your menu." Willow snickered at the thought.
Grinning at her, Spike said, "I can appreciate that. Bloke helps those wankers get away, he deserves to be my breakfast! Glad we see eye to eye on that, Red."
Willow turned her head for a moment to look him in the eye, "Spike, are you color blind or what?"
Staring at her as she shifted her focus back to the road, Spike said, "What are you on about? My vision's perfect. Better than yours I'd wager."
"The hair, Spike." She lifted one hand from the wheel and grasped a strand, pulling it away from her head, holding it out towards him. "And the utter lack of redness. Have you noticed? You keep calling me Red. Except for the slight spattering of blood, I don't see anything red."
"Love, when we're done with those two supergeeks, I'll roll you in their blood and give you a whole new meaning for that name. You can be Willow the Bloody Red Witch."
Willow burst out laughing at this. "Yeah, but if I was covered in blood, you'd want to lick me all over!"
Abrupt silence followed this comment, and Willow earned her nickname anew by blushing to the roots of her black hair. Spike leered at her, "Well Red, would that be so bad?"
~Part: 6~
The gloomy, two-lane highway was all but deserted as Willow's Corvette caught up with the enormous semi truck carrying her enemies. "This is it Spike, hold on!" She slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the engine roared as she passed the truck on the left. Cutting back in front, she hit the brakes, which emitted an ear-piercing screech, and filled the car with the stench of burnt rubber. With no room to swerve, the truck driver had no choice but to brake equally hard, laying on his thunderous horn as he did so. As Willow hoped, the gigantic tires of the truck skidded and began to slide dangerously towards the edge of the pavement.
Willow pulled the car over to the side of the road several yards ahead and waited. After a few seconds, the driver managed to ease the truck off of the pavement, and come to a stop without tipping the trailer. With the truck safe, the driver's door flew open. The man scrambled out and stormed towards the Corvette.
"Look Spike, it's like one of those old fashioned drive-in restaurants where you wait in the car and they bring your meal to you!" Willow giggled at her own joke.
Though the convertible top was down, Spike settled for watching the man approach in his side mirror. Willow was completely twisted around in her seat, grinning as the unsuspecting driver came nearer. Glancing at Spike, she quickly saw why he wasn't looking directly at the furious man. One glimpse of Spike with his vamp face showing like that, and breakfast would likely run for the hills.
As he came around the driver's side of the Corvette, Willow could hear that the truck driver had the stereotypical filthy mouth. He was swearing at her, calling her every name in the book, and a few she was pretty sure he had just made up in her honor. As he leaned over her door, shouting, Willow smiled up at him innocently. He seemed not to notice her strange appearance in the dark. After a few more curses, he moved to reach in the car for her. Just then, Spike whipped his head around to glare at the man, who caught the full force of his gaze, and stopped his verbal rampage midstream. As he stared at the yellow eyes of the demon, Spike launched himself out of his seat, across the car, and into the man's chest.
Willow barely saw him move, but suddenly, Spike was on top of the man, on the ground next to the car. A strangled scream was cut short by ripping sounds, and then there was silence, except for Spike's inelegant slurping. Willow took her time getting out of the car, keeping her eyes on the truck. She stepped around the feeding vampire to open her trunk. She found that her basket was tipped over, its contents strewn about, undoubtedly from the sudden stop in front of the truck. Impatiently, she began tossing everything back in the basket, eager to get down to business.
Finally, she lifted out the full basket, and turned to head for the truck. Spike appeared silently at her side, and surprised her by saying, "Why don't you let me carry that for you, love?" He relieved her of the basket, and they approached the truck together. It was strangely quiet. There had been no sign of Willow's intended victims. Deciding to search the cab, Willow swung herself up into the driver's seat to have a look around. There she found Jonathan and Andrew asleep behind the front seats, utterly oblivious to all that had happened.
"Wakey wakey, boys," Willow said softly. "It's time to come out and play." She reached out and tickled one of them with each hand. They stirred and eventually opened their eyes. Willow flicked on the overhead light, letting them see her face. In response to their horror-stricken expressions she said, "Surprise!"
~Part: 7~
"Oh God, no! Tell me this is a nightmare," Jonathan moaned.
Willow grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him forward between the front seats. "Of course it's a nightmare! The worst one you'll ever have! And also the last. Aren't you glad you'll be awake for it?" She smiled brightly at him, pushing him out the driver's door, and reached for Andrew.
"This cannot be happening. You. are you going to kill us?" Andrew whined.
Willow was getting annoyed, "No, I chased you for hundreds of miles to say I forgive you for killing the love of my life." She shoved him out the door and climbed down herself. They took one last look at Willow, and took off running down the highway. "Spike, twine," she said, watching them, amused at their pathetic attempt at escape.
Willow held the roll of twine aloft, and it flew from her hand, unraveling as it went. It soon overtook the two fleeing figures, and clotheslined them around the neck. With strangled retching, they fell to the pavement, the twine now winding itself around them, binding them together and holding them immobile. Willow reached her hand out towards them, and the two fugitives flew backwards through the air and landed at her feet. She watched as they twisted against their bonds, struggling to get loose. She heaved a sigh and then shouted, "Enough! Stop moving or I'll make it tighter!"
All wriggling abruptly stopped. Jonathan and Andrew stared up at Willow, eyes wide, chests heaving, panting for breath. They were sitting on the gravel shoulder of the road, back to back. The twine wound around their torsos and necks, binding their arms to their sides.
"Much better, but you're too quiet. Quiet is boring. I want this to be fun." Willow stepped forward, and placed the heel of her black leather boot on the back of Andrew's hand. Exerting a steady pressure, she ground the hand into the gravel, smiling as he gasped in shock, and then began to scream as the stones cut into his palm.
Willow tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She stamped on the hand again, and gave a little shiver as the air filled with a fresh scream. Her head snapped forward, and she glared as a car rumbled past them, slowing to take in the scene on the side of the road. Whether the driver saw the look on Willow's face, or just didn't care enough, the car didn't stop.
"We'll continue this somewhere more private," she said, watching the car disappear in the distance. "Still got the basket, Spike?"
The captives were levitated a few feet off the ground, and floated ahead of Willow and Spike as they made their way across the wide grassy area separating the road from the trees beyond. The moon was high and bright, but neither Willow nor Spike needed its light to see. Jonathan and Andrew looked all the more terrified for being able to see the ground below their feet and the faces of their captors.
After a short trek through the woods, and plenty of scrapes from tree branches that Willow didn't bother to steer them around, Jonathan and Andrew found themselves crashing to the ground in a small clearing. Ignoring them, Willow busied herself, pawing through the basket Spike had turned over to her. After a few minutes, she had her hardware store purchases laid out neatly on the mossy ground near her intended victims. She ran her hands over each item.
"What should we use first, boys?" She held up the screwdriver. Four eyes widened, but no other movement was made. She put it down. Next she picked up the handsaw. "How about this?" Two heads shook, no! "Hmm, ok maybe later." She put it down. "Jonathan, what should I use on Andrew first?"
He said nothing. "Come on now, pick one. If you don't, I'll use the handsaw on you first. I don't think I need to go into detail about where I'll use it."
"Ok, ok, um, the screwdriver. Use that," Jonathan answered at last.
"You asshole!" Andrew found his voice. "Thanks a fucking lot!"
Willow laughed, and picked up the flathead screwdriver. She strolled over to Andrew and knelt down to face him. He leaned back as far as he could, trying to put some distance between them. With a quick motion, Willow brought up the hand with the screwdriver and drove it into his face underneath his eye, just above the cheekbone. Shrieks of pain echoed all around them. Andrew's eye now lay useless on his cheek, still tethered to the socket by a bloody thread of flesh. Willow reached up and squeezed it till it popped with a satisfying squish.
Standing up, Willow waited for the screaming to subside. It was taking awhile, so she walked over to Spike, who was a few yards away, watching everything. "Red, that was truly nasty," he said, a look of admiration shining on his pale features. She smiled at him and shrugged modestly.
At last, the screaming diminished into whimpering, and Willow returned to her game. "Now Andrew, what would you like me to use on Jonathan first?" she asked.
"Use the fucking handsaw!" He spat without hesitation, fixing her with the glare of his one remaining eye.
"What? Hey, the screwdriver didn't look so bad! How was I supposed to know what she was going to do with it?" Jonathan protested. "You know goddamn well where she's going with that saw!"
"Yeah well you deserve it! Look at my eye!"
Willow giggled, "See what I did there? Now this is fun! I don't even have to decide what to do, you can choose for me!" She picked up the handsaw and approached Jonathan. With her free hand, she made a simple gesture and muttered a word.
Looking down, Jonathan realized he was no longer wearing pants. He began to scream. And scream. She hadn't even touched him yet.
~Part: 8~
Far too quickly for Willow's liking, Jonathan and Andrew lost consciousness. Whether from pain or blood loss, she didn't care. They were no longer tied together. Escape had become impossible when she blew out their kneecaps with the mallet. Andrew, with his one eye, had lasted the longest by far. Finally, when she was halfway through extracting his fourth fingernail, he passed out cold.
Now, Willow circled the two bodies laying side by side in the dirt. Periodically, she stopped and prodded them with her toe. At last it was clear to her that waking up in the near future was not in the cards for either one of them. "Bored, now," she declared, pouting. "Eat them, Spike," she said and walked off to sit on a tree stump and watch.
Spike obliged, sauntering over to Jonathan first and picking up his limp body. He held it slightly away from him as he bent his head to the side. Jonathan was still bleeding freely in multiple places, and Spike was clearly trying not to dirty his clothes.
After draining him, Spike tossed Jonathan aside and reached for Andrew. As he dipped his head towards the exposed neck, Andrew's head snapped forward and bashed into Spike's. Surprised and a little hurt, Spike dropped him. Andrew instantly realized he could not support his own weight on his broken knees and collapsed in a heap. He scrambled on the ground trying to crawl away through the trees. He was at the edge of the clearing, and likely had irrational thoughts that he would actually escape, when Spike reached down and grabbed him by the back of the neck. Hauling him up, Spike twisted his head until his spine snapped, and then plunged his fangs through the flesh.
Willow clapped for this little show, and jumped off of the stump. When Spike had tossed Andrew away, she threw her arms around him in a big hug. Still embracing the astounded vampire, she purred, "Spike, that was wonderful. Thank you so much for doing this with me."
Spike cleared his throat. "Willow, your hands. What are you doing?"
"Don't you like it?" She pouted. "Come on, don't you get turned on by the blood? It was so exciting. I'm so. excited. And tense and, you know, worked up?" She raised her eyebrows at him, an unspoken question hanging in the air.
A slow smile spread over his face. "You want me. Don't you, Love? You want me right here and now, with death all around us?"
Willow could see that he would not object, and with a quiet murmur, she stepped back and grinned.
Spike found that he was now standing there, utterly devoid of clothing. Not a stitch covered his pale, hard body. "Well, Love, two can play at that game." He used all his preternatural speed to strip her faster than she could see. After a moment's mutual admiration, he pushed her hard. Caught off guard, Willow stumbled and fell backwards. The ground squished beneath her, and she realized she'd landed in a puddle of the blood accumulated from her earlier games. She stood up and reached behind her back to feel her skin. She was covered in blood down to her knees.
"Ooh, you did that on purpose," she whispered. "Clean it all up now." She turned away from him, presenting her back. At the sight of the blood Spike's fangs slid down as his demon showed its face. He kneeled behind her to oblige her command. Bending his head, he started at the back of her left knee, trailing his tongue up her leg and stopping at the juncture of her thigh and her butt. He repeated the stroke of his tongue until the leg was clean and moved on to the other. She shuddered each time he came in contact with her skin.
He wrapped his hands around her shins to steady her, and through her hazy pleasure, she realized his flesh was stone cold. When he finished her legs, he sat up a little more, and began languidly lapping at her cheeks. Willow clenched and unclenched her fists, barely resisting the urge to turn around and toss Spike on the ground, riding him like a bucking stallion.
Spike ran his tongue lightly along the separation of her cheeks, and Willow sucked in her breath. With the next pass, he plunged into the depths of the crack, and licked up through to the top. That was it for Willow's self control. She spun to face Spike, back still bloody, and pushed him over. He straightened out his legs and stretched his arms up over his head, looking at her in amusement, his human face making a reappearance.
"Ok, Red, I thought we'd go slow, but if you want quick and dirty, you won't hear me say no." His body was laid out smooth and flat, except for one very noticeable protrusion. Willow wouldn't have to waste any time getting him in the mood.
She walked up a few steps to stand next to him, then swung one leg out over his body, and knelt down, straddling him. Her toes burrowed into the dirt on either side of him, as she inched up towards his midsection. He moaned quietly when she grasped him in one hand. Positioning herself, she guided him inside of her with one thrust, and sighed, rolling her head back. Spike growled and reached for her. She rocked back and forth on him, gripping his sides with her knees.
He ran his hands up her sticky back as she bent over him for a light kiss, her black hair tickling his chest. She realized it was their first. She felt it appropriate that the two of them, creatures of evil, should share carnal pleasure before something so innocent as a simple kiss. It felt good, and she lowered her head for another, longer one. Lips parted and tongues met. As Willow drew back slightly, she took his bottom lip in her teeth and twisted her head sharply. He snarled at her and vamped out again as she sat up straight. She laughed as she continued to swivel her hips, grinding into him. "No, no Spike. You've done enough biting for one night. It's my turn now."
Spike sucked in his lip, trying to stop the bleeding from the small tear she'd made. Willow caressed his shoulders for a moment with her fingertips. When Spike began to relax, she dug in her nails and dragged them down his chest, creating eight red tracks that immediately welled with blood. The demon face leered at her as she smeared her hands through the cuts and held them to his mouth.
Willow quickened her motions, sliding up and down, thighs contracting and relaxing as Spike sucked the blood from her fingers. When he had cleaned her right hand and started on her left, she reached around behind her and seized his balls in a firm grip.
"Aah! No Spike! Relax!" she scolded as he bit down on her fingers in response to her grasp. She yanked her hand away from his mouth and examined the damage. Teeth marks in her index and middle fingers were starting to bleed.
She squeezed his balls harder until it almost hurt. Then she began to rub them and roll them between her fingers until his eyes closed. Once he was subdued, she returned her hand to his lips and let him suck her wounds. He obliged eagerly, and soon she had to remove her hand again to prevent "accidental" new bites.
Still riding him hard and massaging his balls, Willow used her free hand to fiddle with a cold pink nipple. Spike's eyes flew open as she began to twist and pinch it, feeling it harden under her touch.
"So that's what you like then," said Spike, and he reached up with both hands to return the favor. Willow threw her head back and moaned, grinding into him harder than ever. Spike pinched and pulled her nipples harder in response, and she pushed against him faster and faster until she screamed, shuddered and fell quiet.
Sighing, Willow slowly leaned back until her head rested on Spike's shins, her legs still bent underneath her. She stretched her arms up and grabbed the soles of his feet. Taking in the new and improved view this position offered, Spike, gripped her thighs and thrust up into her several more times before roaring and going limp himself. His face immediately returned to its smooth human features, and he lay quiet, savoring the moment, gently stroking Willow's legs.
A minute later, Willow stood up and walked around, picking up her scattered clothes as she went. When she found it impossible to reach around to clean off her back, she concentrated for a moment and magicked the dried blood away.
Spike continued to just lay on the ground watching her. "Sure wish I had a cigarette about now. Left the duster in the car though, and they were in the pocket. You're some shag, Red." Willow was almost done dressing, so Spike got up and began to look around for his clothes. He frowned and walked all the way around the clearing, still naked. "Love, where did you put my clothes?"
"Put? I didn't "put" them anywhere. I teleported them off of you. I never did get around to learning how to control the destination part of that spell. I guess they could be anywhere."
"Anywhere? And by that you mean, anywhere in the trees here, or anywhere in this bloody world?" Spike demanded, his voice rising.
"This world? Oh no, they could be anywhere in any world. It's a very generic spell."
Spike closed his eyes for a moment. Willow smirked, watching him try to control his temper. "I think you're missing the point, Love," he said through gritted teeth. "What in the hell am I supposed to wear!"
"Oh, that. You can take their clothes." Willow gestured towards the corpses laying nearby. "It's not like they need them anymore."
Spike looked at the bodies, at Willow, and back again. He opened his mouth and then shut it. Finally he said, "Well not like I've got a lot of choice in the matter, do I?" He stalked over to Andrew and tugged off his shoes, then the ratty jeans. There was no way he was touching the underwear. Jonathan was useless since his pants were already gone. Spike struggled into the too-tight pants while Willow looked on, leering at him as he zipped up over his bare skin. He tried on the shoes. They weren't a perfect fit, but better than he expected. He started to bend down again, but then said, "Oh sod the shirt, these two are so filthy, I'm better off with none at all. I'll just have my jacket back on and no one will know. Bloody good thing I left that in the car. There'd be hell for you to pay if you'd poofed that away, Red."
Not bothering to hide the bodies or retrieve the tools, Spike and Willow made their way back towards the road and their car. Willow found that she thought of it as "their car" now. It felt nice to not be alone. Feeling more herself, she could hardly believe she'd slept with Spike. It seemed so natural a little while ago, but now she found herself wondering what she was thinking.
Though she was sure he'd never thought of her that way before, she was amused to realize just how well she'd judged him when she had figured that he wouldn't turn her away if she made the offer. Still, it was a little depressing to know just how easy he was, and that it wasn't anything special about her that had made him so willing. So be it. He'd given her good sex, right when she needed it, so she wasn't going to complain. `I slept with Spike,' she thought again.
Willow was jolted from her meditations as they came to the edge of the trees and saw the flashing lights of the police cars surrounding the truck and their car. Spike noticed too. "Bloody hell, how many people are we going to have to kill tonight?"
~Part: 9~
"This is no fun," Willow pouted. The two of them remained in the shadows of the trees, watching the police do their work by the side of the road. The body of the truck driver had already been removed by the coroner, and only a chalk outline showed that a murder had taken place. Yellow police tape cordoned off the area around the truck and the Corvette. One officer shone a flashlight into the car while another could be seen dropping cigarette butts into a plastic baggie for evidence.
Spike chuckled. "Good luck getting a DNA match on that, mate." With the officers finished dusting for fingerprints and picking through the Corvette, Willow waited, impatient to see what they would do with it. Finally, they were done examining the scene, and some of the police cars started to pull away. One police car and three officers were still there when Willow realized they were going to have to reveal themselves soon or be stuck walking home.
One officer got in the truck and pulled it back on to the road, and soon disappeared into the night. The two who remained were having a heated argument about who got to drive the Corvette back to the station where it could be picked up by the Sunnydale dealer. One man eventually strode over to the police car and got in, slamming the door before peeling away, sirens blaring.
The remaining officer grinned widely and skipped towards the sports car. Willow turned to Spike. "I know you just had dinner, but do you think you're ready for a little dessert yet?" Seeing that he hesitated, hand on his stomach, she added, "If not, could you just kill him? I'm too tired."
In the blink of an eye, Spike had disappeared from her side, and she could see him at the car, yanking the unsuspecting cop out of the driver's seat where he had not yet even put the key in the ignition. Willow watched, straight faced, as Spike snapped his neck and tossed him away. She could see him beckoning to her, his task accomplished, eager to be on the road again. Sunrise was not too far away, and they would need to either be in the car with the top up or get to a town and find a place to rest.
Soon they were tearing up the freeway again, heading back the way they'd come, radio blasting, Willow trying to stay awake, Spike cursing the coming dawn. They didn't speak, which suited them both. Willow spared a glance at Spike, who was staring out the window. She wondered about his thoughts, if he was indeed having any. She'd never been convinced that guys had that same inner voice that rambled on incessantly the way women did. Maybe it was quiet in his head. She wished she could make it quiet in hers. Even the wish for quiet was loud, the voice screaming at itself to stop, and getting angrier at its own sound.
The radio could not drown out her mind, and eventually she stopped trying. As soon as she gave in, images flooded her brain. The were random and unexpected. She didn't summon them, they just came, racing back and forth in time. She saw herself as a small child trying to get her mother's attention to show her a picture of a sunrise she drew in school. The next moment she saw herself in the woods, covered in blood, bodily engaged with a demon. A shift back in the timeline saw her first kiss with Tara, then the body of her witch lover lying motionless. Farther back her mind flew to the first time she met Buffy, and abruptly she slammed back into the present, into reality. Her reality now, her mission to kill that very girl, enveloped her being, and she felt herself relax in the presence of her own determination.
Cresting an incline in the road, Willow spotted a town ahead and turned to Spike. He noticed it too. "I'm tired, Spike. I've got my whole life to get back and kill the Slayer, and you've got eternity. I want to stop and rest. We can go when it's dark again. I don't like the sun so much anymore either."
Spike had no objections, not that they would have mattered to Willow. The sun was about to rise and he was full, no more need to hunt until the following night. A hotel room would be a more comfortable way to spend the day than being cooped up in the not very spacious Corvette. Willow pulled the car into a spot in front of a Motel 6. She was about to get out when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned and gave Spike a questioning look.
"No offense love, but between the two of us, I look the better human." He gestured towards her face and down her body. "You know, the veins, the splashes of blood, don't want to scare our host. Maybe I ought to handle this. Besides, you seem to have forgotten your purse." As Willow sat back, he got out of the car and added, "This one's on me, since you bought dinner." Willow realized he was right, it's not like you can steal a motel room. She pulled down the visor and examined her veined face in the mirror. He was right about that, too. Would she ever look normal again? Not that she cared, just wondered. She felt a little irritated with herself that the vampire was thinking more clearly than her.
After what seemed longer than necessary, Spike returned to the car and she caught him wiping a bit of blood from his chin. Getting out she admonished him. "Spike! Did you eat the desk clerk?"
His eyes widened. "That smelly, old goat! No thank you! Lovely housekeeping maid happened to come in. I took her in an empty room," he offered by way of explanation. He looked offended by Willow's rolling eyes. "What? Haven't had a woman all night!" He paused. "To eat. To kill," he amended.
"Whatever. Let's just find our room." They set off and located their lodging on the second floor. As soon as they were inside, Willow cast off almost all of her clothes, and ignoring Spike, sprawled on the bed. She was asleep before he could open his mouth.
~Part: 10~
When Willow awoke 9 hours later, the first thing she saw was Spike, sitting, smoking, watching her. "Gods, Spike, why do you have to be so creepy? Couldn't you watch the TV?"
"Oh well, excuse me! Let's go over my options here. You come in, pass out, and what am I supposed to do? You don't save me any bed space, and I thought the telly would wake you. That's just what I need is to have you startled and start me on fire. And don't think I don't know that you could. Could have done it before, too. Don't know why you didn't. Don't know why you're dragging me around like your damn doll!"
Willow pulled the sheet up over herself and smirked. Apparently lack of sleep made Spike cranky. She got up. "Here, you can have the bed, make yourself comfortable. I'm going to take a shower. We have a few hours before we can leave." She walked into the bathroom, feeling his eyes on her. Amused, she bent over and slid off her panties before closing the door, catching a glimpse of his slack-jawed gaze.
Willow stood for uncounted minutes, letting the stinging spray attack her shoulders and neck. She watched as blood and grime swirled on the white porcelain at her feet. Coming out of her stupor, she grabbed the tiny bar of hotel soap and started scrubbing herself vigorously. She felt energized, and the water sizzled with her power. She scrubbed harder, pausing only to lather her hair with the totally inadequate tube of shampoo. Her hair had never stayed black this long before. She began to doubt it would ever change back.
She leaned out of the shower and grabbed the soap next to the sink, unwrapping it with shaking hands and proceeding to drag it all across her raw skin. She used it up in minutes, and a quick glance around the bathroom told her there was no more to be had. She shut off the water and reached for the fluffy white towels piled on the chrome rack. She rubbed herself dry and kept rubbing, skin chafing as she used towel after towel, grinding the fabric into her body.
As clean as she could get, Willow went back into the main room and paused to gaze at the sleeping vampire. He was naked, face up, on top of the sheet. The too small jeans and shoes were tossed on the chair where he'd been sitting when she woke up. The bedside lamp was on and she could see him perfectly, every inch. In this light he looked perfectly normal and human. Normal, not average. Even when alive she doubted Spike had ever been described as average. Not with that body, that face, that hair, oh and that smile.
Willow got control of her thoughts with some effort. She looked at him again when she felt she could trust herself. There was no sign of the demon that had murdered five people in the last 24 hours. She looked at her scabbed over fingers, no sign of the teeth that had made those marks. She wasn't fooled. She knew what was laying there in front of her. If she was an ordinary human, she could easily have been among his victims for the night. But she wasn't ordinary. How many ordinary humans have sex with vampires and live to tell about it? Well, Buffy, but that was a close call with Angel. Willow knew Spike wouldn't try to kill her. At least not while she was this powerful. She could have killed him, could kill him now, but she wouldn't. What right did she have? She was worse than him, she had a soul. No, "oh my demon made me do it," excuse for her.
Her self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by a moan from Spike. She stared as he began to slowly writhe on the bed, "Oh, Red, mmm, right there. That's nice, baby." Willow was agape. She noticed with growing interest that Spike was completely into his dream to such an extent that its effects were manifesting themselves physically. Willow bit her lip, eyeing his hardened shaft. Are vampires just always aroused? She wondered. She looked down, realizing that she was still naked. Well, she thought, as long as I'm already damned to eternity in hell.